They spilled out of the shadows like ants from a mound. Tens of boggarts, all full of snarls, poking their spears in the air at him as though that would scare him off.
Boggart
Aether Level 6
Boggart
Aether Level 5
Boggart
Aether Level 7
And dozens more. They crowded into a half moon around him, leaving about twenty feet of distance between, weapons bristling like the spines of a porcupine.
Caleb stared at them as he stood hunched over the form of their slain kin. He slowly rose, standing to his full height, towering over their meagre frames. The thrill inside of him had yet to die. In fact, looking at the horde of monsters in front of him only caused it to grow, like dumping gasoline onto an already raging fire.
He guessed that these things were like henchmen to the Dungeon bosses – little swarming pests that did their master's bidding, latched onto a greater power. Like vampires and their thralls. Only, these thralls had no issue devouring their master's dead body. Pure, self-serving evil.
Even with the pleasure of battle thundering in his chest, Caleb had honor. He wasn't going to bully and kill lesser creatures that didn't deserve it as if it were a sport. But faced with this wall of writhing, snapping hunger? He had no issue there.
He stood tall and stalwart against the horde, looking them dead in the eyes. They would take several steps forward, then he'd lock eyes with one and it would scurry back. The entire group of them surged forward and back like a black tide crashing on the shore. He wanted to fight them, a good fight, a fair fight. He wanted to feel as though he were dangling above a precipice. He wanted to feel alive.
So he charged directly toward the bastards.
They screamed. The ones he was headed nearest toward took cowered away as far as they could before running their backs into the ranks of boggarts behind them and they were forced to stop. There was nowhere for them to go, trapped between him and their brethren.
Like caged animals, they bared their fangs.
Caleb ducked past skewering sticks, earning a few knicks on his skin, but nothing more than surface-level wounds. He grasped one of the shafts in his fist and shattered it to splinters with the simplest of efforts. The spearhead twirled through the air. He snatched it, then flung it straight into the head of a nearby boggart, dropping it like a bag of flour.
As quick as he'd dove, he leapt back out, streaks of energy rushing from his slain foes and into him. It was a balancing act – rush in, get in a few good hits, and then rush out before he got swarmed. Wait too long and he'd be surrounded, left at the mercy of gnashing fangs and claws.
Again.
Caleb darted forward, his climbing shoes tearing through ice and snow. The nearest boggart lunged at him, shrieking. He drove his fist straight toward it, crushing its throat with a wet crack.
This Brawling skill is incredible, he thought, arcing a hand into the chin of a boggart with the force of a sledge. I feel like an entirely new person!
"Muhhamad Ali!" he yelled, punching one in the throat.
"Floyd Mayweather!" A boggart doubled over, hands covering its shattered crotch.
"Mike Tyson!" He didn't bite a boggart in the ear. That would've been gross.
A hiss of pain escaped him as another boggart's jagged edge raked across his shoulder, hot blood welling instantly. He twisted with the motion, letting the strike slide shallow instead of deep, then spun on the next attacker. A spearhead thrust from behind, the iron tip glinting inches from his spine.
Caleb dropped low, the thrust cutting only air, then surged upward, snatching the culprit by the face. Its yellow eyes went wide in panic as his fingers dug into its skin. With a grunt, he heaved, swinging the creature like a rag doll and hurling it into the mass of its kin. The impact bowled several of them over into a heap of writhing limbs and spears.
By the time the mob scrambled to rise, Caleb was already gone – slipping back beyond their reach, chest heaving, blood dripping down his arm, smile wide across his face.
He wasn't sure what the requirements for Skyward Will's passive skill was, but surely this had to meet them. One against dozens. Fighting and surviving by the skin of his teeth. With every kill, he felt a bit more aetherial energy flood into his body, rejuvenating him just the smallest bit. It wasn't nearly enough to make a real difference in the fight. The amount he got from killing Bolvun must have been monumental for it to heal him as much as it had. A tsunami compared to just drops in a bucket. If he killed the entire horde of boggarts, he'd likely only gain a single level. He could instinctively feel that it took more and more energy to level up with each successive level.
Time to keep pushing himself.
He dove back in. Boggarts shrieked as he split their ranks, their brittle bones crunching under his fists, wood shattering to splinters in his iron grip. Cuts scored across his skin, furrows of fire. His knuckles split in the cold. He laughed, relishing the pain.
Shit.
The world lurched as his footing gave way on a slick patch of ice, sending him crashing hard to the ground. The impact rattled his teeth and drove the breath from his lungs. Before he could rise, shadows collapsed over him.
Clawed hands seized his arms, his legs, talons scraping, teeth snapping. Their rank breath pressed hot against his face as snarls and guttural hisses drowned out the wind. One drove its jagged spike down, the tip sparking off ice and stone inches from his ribs. Caleb roared and bucked, tearing one boggart free, only for two more to take its place.
The thrill turned sour. A spearhead sank into his calf, a gout of blood pouring out. His screams were lost amongst the boggarts' shrill, bloodlusted cries as they descended on wounded prey..
Gore smeared across the ice as he dragged himself forward, inch by inch, toward one of the pillars of stone jutting from the plaza. He had to get away. He may have been stronger and more durable than the boggarts, but even a lion can get killed by hyenas. It just takes enough of them.
He'd gotten cocky, lost himself in the flow of battle. But he was still new to all of this, fighting. He realized too little too late that there was more to it than just hitting your enemies and avoiding their attacks. It was like a problem on a boulder, you had to be aware of everything at once: your surroundings, the placement of your feet, your momentum and the momentum of those around you, even your shoes. Brute force might work, but you increased your odds of success if you took the time to analyze beforehand.
In a last ditch gambit, Caleb willed his final two available stat points into Resilience, desperately hoping that would be enough to eke out the strength to live. It wouldn't do anything to heal the wounds he already had, but it would hopefully prevent him from getting more.
Should he make it out alive, he would not make these mistakes again.
His muscles screamed, vision swimming with angry red. The boggarts tore at him, ripping cloth, drawing fresh welts of searing red, their shrill laughter echoing. He kicked and slapped at them, but they were endless. The meager amounts of energy he gained from them did nothing to stem the flow of his life as it fled his body.
With a desperate heave, Caleb clawed at the pillar, fingers scrabbling for a hold, leaving ruddy streaks. It was smooth and slick with a thin layer of frost, like trying to climb up an oiled fireman's pole. Screw this.
If he couldn't find a hold, he'd make his own.
Caleb roared, stabbing his fingertips into the face of the column, breaking straight through over an inch of ice and stone. He dragged himself upward, fighting against the myriad arms trying to pull him back down. One caught his ankle, its nails biting deep, but Caleb lashed out with his heel, smashing its jaw and sending it tumbling back into the mob below.
Bit by bit he climbed.
His fingers punched straight into stone as though it were made of paper mache, his toes kicked footholds of their own. His wounds left a dark trail down the column face, but he climbed anyway. Higher. Away from the writhing mass snapping and stabbing at his heels.
When he finally reached the top, he hauled himself onto the flat surface and splayed out. It was just large enough for him to lay on, his arms and legs dangling down, but still over twenty feet up and well out of reach from the boggarts' strikes.
He spent a solid minute just catching his breath, hearing the thunderous drum of his blood in his ears. Then he started to laugh.
It started out softly, just light chuckles. But it quickly grew louder, out of his control. He'd nearly died, been stabbed and eaten by monstrous little gremlins, and yet he was laughing. What was wrong with him? Why was this the most fun he'd had in years? He wasn't even safe yet, there were still a good two dozen boggarts down below waiting like a pack of hungry piranhas.
They hissed and screeched down below, angrily throwing spears or stones like children trying to get their ball unstuck from a tree. From up above, it was easy to see just how weak the boggarts were individually. The fact that he'd been forced to run… it made his blood boil. It felt like cheating, like he'd given up on the challenge. Even though the fight wasn't over, a part of him felt like he'd lost simply because he'd been forced to climb away.
"Assholes!" He flicked off all of the ugly little boggarts beneath him. So far beneath him. Then he pulled off the shoes that had caused him to slip and tossed them off the column, leaving him just in his climbing pants and torn shirt. His chalk bag still dangled from his waist.
He would never be forced to run again. It was a promise to himself.
Caleb lifted his head, the mob still howling below, and willed his status screen to life. A few of the words glowed with a seductive light, blood red against the blue screen.
Aether Level 10 reached. Please select a class.
The path you choose will draw out the strength within you, molding it into a form shaped by your Intent and Will. As your Aether Level increases, you will gain opportunities to change and upgrade your class. No two paths ever unfold the same.
Bound Inheritance Detected: All available Classes have been augmented by your Inheritance, each receiving a bound Aspect. This Aspect evolves with you and your class.
Please choose from the 4 available classes:
Class: Hunter (Skyward Will)
Class: Champion (Skyward Will)
Class: Slayer (Skyward Will)
Class: Arcanist (Skyward Will)
Caleb giggled with excitement at the prospect of what was to come, like a kid in a candy store. It may have been a while since he'd last played a video game, but even he knew that with a class should come massive bonuses.
He couldn't wait. The screen rippled and shifted as he focused and read over each available class.
Hunter (Skyward Will): Eyes that never miss. Hunters master the most wild of terrains, attuning to the flow of nature and the creatures that roam within. They are perceptive, precise, patient, and cunning, excelling at ambushing and striking their prey from afar. Many hunters form deep bonds with animal companions, fighting alongside them as a team.
Inheritance Aspect: Horizon Bow
Champion (Skyward Will): Strength and honor. Champions stand at the front lines, wielding heavy arms and armor while shielding their allies from harm. They are stalwart, indomitable, valiant, and inspiring, excelling at turning the tide of battle through martial might.
Inheritance Aspect: Aegis Plate
Slayer (Skyward Will): Lethal even without a weapon. Slayers reject the crutches of heavy armor or divine tradition, forging themselves through raw grit and countless forms of brutal combat. They are agile, adaptable, tough, and relentless, excelling in the thick of the fight.
Inheritance Aspect: Spirit Self
Arcanist (Skyward Will): Power through knowledge. Arcanists draw upon the Aether within and around themselves, balancing instinct and study to shape it into countless expressions. They are artistic, precise, subtle, and devastating, excelling in their command of the mystic arts.
Inheritance Aspect: Runeblade
Caleb's eyes traced over every option, drinking them all in. He read each of the classes several times to make sure he wasn't missing anything. They all sounded incredible.
They all seem quite powerful. Am I sure these are proper starter classes? I was expecting something more like fighter, thief, rogue, mage. These are… well, way cooler. But which one do I pick?
Each class also granted him a special weapon that would grow with him. Whichever one he chose would likely decide his fighting style for a very long time. He had to be careful and think this through.
Hunter, Champion, Slayer, and Arcanist. Caleb stroked his chin. Down below, a huddle of the boggarts hustled away, scurrying back through the entrance on the side of the steep mountain. He paid them no mind.
Hunter is probably the closest thing to what I already am – I spend quite a bit of time outside, but I've never used a bow in my life. There's no way of telling if I'd enjoy it, or if I'd even be any good at it. It would be nice to have a little animal companion though. A friend that I don't have to talk to – that's a dream come true!
I'm also going to cut Arcanist. Magic sounds badass and all, but studying and knowledge aren't my strong suits – it's not a great fit for me. I don't want to handicap myself from the start. Plus, I need to think about how I'm going to get out of this Dungeon. There's no way of telling if I'll automatically know spells as soon as I take the class. Then I'd be a wizard without magic. Otherwise known as… exactly what I am right now.
That left Champion and Slayer. Both appeared to be focused on using his body, which Caleb appreciated. Half the reason he got rid of Hunter and Arcanist was because then he'd be so removed from the action. He'd only had a sip of what came when locked in a life-or-death fight – the sweet release of straddling victory and defeat, feeling heat flood your veins, steel bleed your skin, and he was addicted. He wasn't about to give that up so he could kill from a distance. Where was the fun in that?
Caleb licked his lips, drying and cracking in the bitter cold. Yeah… something is definitely wrong with me.
A spear shrieked through the air. Caleb snapped his head aside, catching it effortlessly in his palm. The boggart that had thrown it screamed in protest like a child that had had its toy taken from them. Caleb turned the spear in his hand, tracing the grain with a casual curiosity.
"You want it back?" he called down.
The boggart's cry warped into a jagged wail, like nails stuck in a garbage disposal.
Caleb's grin twisted. "Alright," he said. "You asked for it."
The spear shot forward, blurring. It slammed into the boggart's head and out the back with a sickening crunch, pinning the corpse upright. Ice atop the plaza spiderwebbed in a maze of fractures, shards and snow leaping from the impact, bursting out in a ring. The other boggarts yelped in surprise and leapt away, staring and growing silent.
A disappointed frown crossed his face. He'd been right. It wasn't as fun from a distance. "Don't interrupt me again."
Alright, now back to what I was doing.
All that was left were Champion and Slayer. A powerful tank and a vicious killer. It wasn't really that much of a choice.
Champion would certainly allow me to wade through enemies, but I don't love the idea of having a large portion of my class being related to helping my allies. For one, I don't have any allies right now, and two, I don't really want any.
Slayer sounds just about perfect. I don't need anything more than my hands – they're already my weapon of choice. Even before all of this happened, I'd be willing to bet that my hands and grip strength was leagues stronger than the average person. Besides, it just sounds plain cool.
And that's not even getting into the Inheritance Aspect.
Caleb couldn't stop himself from smiling as his eyes focused on the Slayer class. It felt right, like it were made for him.
Pick something that expands on what you're already good at. That's what I'm doing. Do what you love, and you'll never work a day in your life.
It was a bit odd that the list of what he loved had grown from climbing to include killing monsters with his bare hands, but a lot of odd things had happened in the last several hours. That was fairly low on the totem pole. Besides, the world had just ended – he was allowed to have a little fun.
You have selected Class: Slayer (Skyward Will)
Class Skill Learned!
Bonebreaker I (Active)
Channel your Aether through the pathways of your body, gathering it into your fists and releasing it at the moment of striking. Effect increases at higher levels.
Class Skill Learned!
Ferocity I (Passive)
Become consumed in the thrill of the fight, growing stronger the longer you remain in melee. Effect increases at higher levels.
Inheritance Aspect Bound!
Spirit Self
Materialize aspects of yourself, such as additional spiritual arms, allowing you to strike multiple targets and extend your reach.
Title Gained!
Original Ascension
Others may follow, but none can claim they did it before you. You are the first to gain a Class in the entire world.
Reward Granted: All stats +5%
A powerful rush of energy flooded into Caleb. Like his body was being reshaped and empowered. It was different from what he got after killing monsters. He could tell that this one didn't get him closer to leveling up, but instead focused purely on making him stronger.
Light shone from beneath his skin, his veins burning gold for an instant before fading back to normal. Steam rose from him in curling ribbons, hissing like a steam engine. His breath came out as a gust of heat. The ice coating the pillar beneath him began to melt, rivulets running down its sides only to freeze again once they slipped too far from his burning presence.
The glow and heat faded almost as quickly as they had come on. But the power remained.
He couldn't wait any longer. He opened his status page.
Caleb Wade
Class: Slayer (Skyward Will)
Aether Level 10
Truths: None
Bound Inheritance: Skyward Will
Inheritance Aspect: Spirit Self
Titles:
Original KillTitan's BaneOriginal Ascension
Stats:
Strength: 14.4Dexterity: 8.6Resilience: 12.1Presence: 9.8
Available Stat Points: 0
Skills:
Bonebreaker I (Active)Ferocity I (Passive)Brawling I (Passive)Skyward Will (Passive)
Caleb couldn't believe what he was seeing. Nearly every single one of his stats had doubled since he'd last looked at them. But it wasn't just his physicality that had undergone such drastic changes – his mind had as well.
His skills and Inheritance Aspect… He intrinsically understood them, how they worked, the intricacies of channeling the aether within his body. Similar to how he'd just understood how to fight after receiving the Brawling skill. It was entirely different than what he was used to. Like he'd spent countless hours training, learning the skill, practicing it over and over until it was honed to deadly perfection, but condensed to a single point in time. He just… understood.
With a simple thought of "Class," another window rippled into view.
Class: Slayer (Skyward Will)
Aether Level Up bonus: +0.6 Strength, +0.2 Dexterity, +0.3 Resilience, +0.4 Presence
So that's where most of my new stats are coming from. The Aether Level Up bonus must be retroactive, giving me all of those stats for each of my ten levels. Six Strength, two Dexterity, three Resilience, and four Presence. Plus the additional fifteen percent bonus that I now get on top of that.
It's curious that Presence is the second highest stat for my class. I still don't know exactly what it does. My Dexterity is also rather low. I'm going to have to make up for that by putting more of my free points into it.
Enough wasting time looking at numbers. It was time to stretch his muscles, test out his new strength.
He looked down upon the horde of boggarts. The ones that had left into the mountain's entrance hadn't returned, but that still left a good fifteen monsters swarming around the base of the column. Fifteen against one. Good odds.
A thrill shot through him, his muscles shaking with anticipation. He clenched his fists, forearms coiling with tight cords of power. What he'd faced before had been a mere appetizer – just enough to tease his hunger, wet his appetite. Now that hunger roared to life, demanding a proper fight.
Blood from his wounds still ran down his skin, but he didn't care. He wanted more. Needed more.
Grinning, he launched himself off the column.
He landed on the ground in a puff of snow and ice, then immediately burst forward, feet pounding across the frigid ground. A powerful hand clamped down on the nearest boggart, palm across face before it could even squeal. His fingers squeezed and its head ruptured like a watermelon.
Oh, how he would not miss the world before. Only a few hours and he was already fully invested. This knew life and whatever it brought with it, was the one he was meant to live.
His Inherited weapon was always with him, bound to his soul. He could feel them lurking in the recesses of his soul, just waiting to be summoned and let loose to wreak havoc like loyal hounds awaiting their master's call. It felt so natural. He knew that if he summoned them, controlling them would be no different than moving his own arms. They were a true extension of his body.
A spear sliced across his calf, barely cutting through the finest layer of his skin. Another hit his back and bounced off. With his increased Resilience, only the strongest of the boggart's strikes could even hurt him now.
Caleb laughed, breaking the chest of a boggart. He could feel his Frenzy skill activating, an innate understanding of how it worked. The effect was minor, less than a single percent increase so far, but the fight had only begun. The longer the fight went, the higher that percentage would grow.
Three more monsters dropped to a flurry of fists and legs. Then he grabbed two more and smashed their heads together. Aether energy rushed into his body with every kill, getting him closer and closer to leveling up again.
Before he even knew what had happened, only a single boggart remained. It trembled, spear shaking like a tree branch in a hurricane. Caleb took a single step toward it and it turned to run back to the mountain entrance, dropping its weapon entirely and crying in terror. It didn't make it a single foot.
They looked dipped in molten metal. Two vast, spectral arms erupted from Caleb's shoulders, translucent and burning with fiery aether, as if his very will had been dragged from within and given form. They stretched outward, each finger tipped with clawed light, and raked through the fleeing boggart.
It hit the ground in multiple pieces.
The air warped around the phantom limbs, humming with an otherworldly resonance. He flexed the fingers, opening and closing them, drawing the arms in wide arcs around him, testing their limits. Each one was nearly the size of his own, perhaps a few inches longer. To control them felt no different than moving his own flesh and blood arms.
Level Up!
The faint trickle of aether entered Caleb, the last drop he needed. But he barely had time to appreciate it before the sounds of chaos returned. From the mountain's entrance came the boggarts that had fled earlier. Only they weren't alone. They'd gone for reinforcements.
Lumbering amidst their ranks, towering over them at nearly seven feet tall, layered with slabs of muscle, and holding a club made of pure blue ice. Its cold eyes locked on Caleb, filled with malice.
Ice Troll
Aether Level 13
Thirteen? He hadn't fought anything higher level than him yet, unless you counted the giant that he'd meteor-squished. The smart thing to do would be to retreat back, study the situation, and deduce if this was something he could handle. The smart thing also sounded boring.
Running headfirst into things, ignoring the risks, none of it was new to him. He couldn't count the number of times he'd pushed himself climbing while injured and only made things worse. The problem was… he couldn't just sit still and wait. That push was part of the fun, part of the challenge.
This was the kind of fight he'd been waiting for.
A shaky breath left his lungs. Was he hyperventilating? Maybe. He shrugged.
Caleb cracked his knuckles against the palms of his new arms. He dropped his free stat point from leveling up into Strength, and charged.